The Desert Vigil

Many believed that the desert was a desolate, lonely place. Miles of arid sand and sun-bleached brush interrupted only by spine-like mountains never seemed like a place for life. No, the desert seemed like a distant planet more than anything else: forbidding and alien. But life always found a way. Even when that barren land seemed built to keep the living away from the things not quite living and not quite dead.

Maria had lived on her Abuela’s ranch her entire life. She was used to the scorching days followed by nights cool enough to chill her to her bones. She had learned from years of wrangling cattle that the day was the least of her worries. The cows were built for the sun, but the night, well, not many creatures were built for the night. At least, not the night those lands brought.

The back porch of her Abuela’s ranch had become a perch to Maria's watchful vigil. The porch’s old panels with their creaks and rickets were as familiar of a sound to Maria as her morning coffee machine. On the porch sat a lone rocking chair fashioned decades ago by her Tío, it's wood deeply worn from human hands and years of oppressive heat. That rocking chair was where Maria sat with her rifle resting across her lap and a rosary in her right hand. Maria was a watcher, a protector of her family’s ranch from the things that came lurking in the night. Sure, there were wolves and mountain lions, but Maria was used to those creatures.

What Maria was concerned about were the things the people who lived in those hills were too scared to name.

Maria gripped her rosary tight as she sent a couple of prayers to the Father to deliver her safely through another night. Maria wasn’t certain that the darkness feared her God or if they listened to other more ancient deities, but it didn’t hurt to try.

The old porch offered a beautiful view of the Catalina Mountains. If Maria didn’t fear what the following hours had in store for her, she would have enjoyed their beauty. Sure, Maria was used to the tickle in her spine warning her that things were not quite right, but that didn’t mean the fear ever went away. Fear kept her sharp, and focused.

Maria rocked back and forth in her chair as the sun set the Arizona sky aflame in its final minutes. Purple clouds painted the burning orange sky and the last rays of sun hit the Catalina Mountains turning them a deep shade of pink. Hummingbirds buzzed past, their small wings zipping as they searched for their final meal before the long night. As the final light of the sun dipped below the horizon, the bright white flowers on the Saguaro cacti closed as they finally gave up their search for light. Maria smiled against a cooling breeze; the desert did have its beauty if someone knew where to look.

And as the moon rose above the crest of the shadowed mountains, the desert prepared for the night.

Soon the darkness was so complete that Maria struggled to see past her porch. Maria had learned from her Abuela to never light a candle or carry a lantern outside of the ranch's walls. The light was only seen as a challenge to those who called the night their home and it would enrage them more than it would ever scare them off.

Maria muttered a prayer as a few coyotes howled in the distance. Their cries were excited as they built in energy, the sound haunting as it echoed across the desert. Maria tracked the howls as they died down, most likely a pack closing in on prey. Maria made sure to pay close attention to the calls the creatures made in the night because some cries were natural while others warned of something far more sinister.

The hours tracked on, but Maria didn’t grow tired. She knew something had its eyes on her that night. Maria didn’t spend every night on that watcher’s porch. Typically, she let herself sleep through the witching hours of the night with candles shining protective lights around her room. That ranch had attracted negative energies for generations, and sometimes those energies came knocking. On nights like that, Maria liked to be waiting outside.

The morning before, Maria had woken to the cries of her chickens beckoning her to the chicken coop. There, in the middle of the chicken pen were three chickens left beheaded. Their blood sprayed across the hay like a primal sacrifice. Maria knew then that something wanted her attention.

Coyotes or wolves would have taken the entire body with them. And only those dark creatures were sinister enough to mock the holy trinity by killing three of her chickens. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

“I ain’t got all night,” Maria grumbled, rocking to her feet to stand at the edge of the porch.

Something approached across the dusty ranch in the darkness. The moon cast just enough silver light to make the newcomer stand out against the shadows. But it wasn’t until the figure reached the first step of the porch that Maria could make out any features.

“Sorry, hija,” Maria’s Abuela smiled, “I didn’t mean to scare you by staying out so late.”

  Abuela was a warm presence against the dark behind her. Her eyes were a welcoming brown the shade of the desert sands and her hair, grey with age, was tied in a long braid down her back. Abuela’s smile in greeting was so loving that it melted Maria’s heart.

But Maria didn’t have time for affection. She was on watch.

“Did the wards give you any trouble, Abuela?” Maria asked, pointing her rifle to the medicine wheel hanging above the porch step.

Medicine wheels were cousins of dream catchers with their circular shapes denoting balance. While dream catchers caught malicious dreams, medicine wheels were protectors of a home. Medicine wheels called on the four seasons, the four cardinal directions, and the four elements to bring physical and spiritual health. They could protect from those meaning to harm in whatever form that harm might take. Maria’s family had used medicine wheels as part of the protective barriers around that ranch for generations. Medicine wheels, spices, candles, and aloe were all essential in making a spiritual barrier to keep that darkness out when it came looking.

Unfortunately, some forces were more powerful than others.  

But no matter how powerful that force was, it needed an invitation to enter its prey’s home. That didn’t mean they couldn’t draw their prey away from their protection- or trick them into being let inside those barriers. For that reason, Maria was always wary of guests who came after sundown.

Abuela reached out a frail hand just above the last porch step. “Do you mind helping your old grandmother up the stairs?” She asked kindly, “The walk from the truck has my knees aching.”

A smile ticked Maria's lips, "Why don't you come across the steps yourself, Abuela? You know the hour."

Abuela stepped away from the porch, her movements almost too quick for a frail woman of her age, "Ah, yes," the crone mumbled, "we must mind the wards."

Maria reached out. But she didn't grab Abuela's hand. Maria extended her rifle and fired. She frowned as her Abuela collapsed into the dirt and watched blood as black as tar begin to pool around the body. Maria had a moment to consider that she might be slowly going insane.

Unfortunately, Maria knew that she had a proper head on her shoulders. Maria had buried her Abuela in that backyard two years ago. Whatever had come to haunt her that night, well, she would bury that too.